Dad opened the folder.
Inside were copies of the seven declined assignments.
He had printed the account notices.
Each page contained the project reference, the commercial approval, and the updated status.
He placed them in a neat stack.
"I want these reconsidered."
I looked at the documents.
"We can review future requests under the normal process."
"These were already approved."
"They hadn't entered engineering."
"They were part of our business plan."
"I understand."
He tapped the first page.
"Your company has worked with us for three years. We have a relationship."
"We do."
"Then why are you treating us like a new customer?"
I looked at him.
"Because your company is now being scheduled like every other customer."
He leaned back.
"That makes no sense."
"It does."
He studied me.
"Are you doing this because of Camille's wedding?"
I didn't answer immediately.
The question was simple.
The answer wasn't.
"The wedding made me review some decisions I'd been making for the wrong reasons."
He frowned.
"What decisions?"
"The preferred scheduling arrangement."
He glanced at the papers.
"That arrangement was important to us."
"I know."
"Who approved it?"
"I did."
He stared at me.
"You gave us priority?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
I looked at him.
"Because I wanted to help."
He rubbed his forehead.
"You should have told me."
"Would it have mattered?"
He looked irritated.
"Of course it would."
I waited.
He didn't explain.
Then he asked, "Can you put it back?"
"No."
His expression hardened.
"Rowan, this is business."
"Exactly."
He looked at the account summary again.
"You're mixing personal feelings with company decisions."
I leaned forward.
"I did that when I gave your company preferred scheduling. I'm correcting it now."
He said nothing.
I continued.
"The three active projects will be completed. We won't abandon those commitments. The seven unstarted assignments were declined according to the agreements. Future work can be submitted normally."
He closed the folder.
"You're making things difficult for me."
I felt the old instinct to apologize.
It came automatically.
For a moment, I nearly said that I hadn't intended to.
Then I stopped.
"That wasn't my goal."
"Then help me."
"I am helping by honoring the contracts we have."
He shook his head.
"You know what I mean."
I did.
He wanted the arrangement restored.
He wanted the extra scheduling advantage.
He wanted the convenience he had enjoyed without knowing why it existed.
And he wanted me to provide it again because he was my father.
I looked at him.
"Did you know I wasn't given a seat at Camille's wedding?"
He shifted in his chair.
"That's not what we're here to discuss."
"It is part of why we're here."
He looked toward the glass wall.
"Camille had a difficult day."
"So did I."
"She was the bride."
"And I was her sister."
He pressed his lips together.
I waited.
Finally, he said, "You could have handled it differently."
I nodded slowly.
"You're right."
He looked surprised.
I continued.
"I could have stayed. I could have gone back into the kitchen. I could have smiled and carried plates while everyone else ate."
He didn't answer.
"But I didn't."
His eyes returned to mine.
"Your mother was trying to keep things organized."
"She knew I wasn't on the guest list."
He looked down.
I could tell he didn't want to continue that conversation.
He had come to discuss the company.
And I wasn't going to let him turn the meeting into another discussion about my attitude.
I stood.
"Is there anything else about the account?"
He looked at the folder.
"Think about what you're doing."
"I have."
He stood too.
"You're risking a relationship."
I looked at him.
"Which relationship?"
He didn't answer.
I walked him to the conference room door.
He left without shaking my hand.
That evening, Camille sent another message.
Dad says you refused to help him.
I read it twice.
Then I replied.
I offered to complete every existing commitment and consider future work normally. That's not refusing to help.
She responded almost immediately.
You know what he needs.
I typed a reply.
I knew what he wanted.
But I didn't send it.
I put the phone away.
For the next several days, I focused on Asterline.
The three active Mercer projects continued.
Our engineers submitted their progress reports.
The prototype testing team completed its scheduled review.
The documentation department delivered the revised technical files.
Everything proceeded as agreed.
The seven declined assignments remained closed.
Mercer Architectural Systems was free to seek other providers for those projects.
That was the ordinary result of a declined assignment.
There was no hidden action.
No secret penalty.
No interference with work already underway.
I made sure of that.
Dad's company contacted procurement twice.
Both times, our team gave the same explanation.
The account was now subject to standard scheduling.
A few days later, I received a message from Derek.
Can we all have dinner this weekend?
I stared at it.
I wondered whether he meant the four of us.
Or whether he wanted me to meet everyone so they could explain why I had misunderstood the wedding.
I asked one question.
"Why?"
He replied.
"Because we're family."
I looked at the screen.
That word used to be enough.
It wasn't anymore.
I wrote back.
"I'm willing to talk, but I'm not going to pretend nothing happened."
He sent a thumbs-up.
It wasn't much.
But it was the first time he hadn't immediately asked me to make things easier for everyone else.
The dinner was arranged for Saturday.
I arrived at my parents' house a little after six.
Mom opened the door.
She hugged me briefly.
Then she stepped aside.
Dad was in the living room.
Derek sat on the sofa.
Camille was not there.
I asked about her.
Mom said she was tired.
I understood.
I wasn't sure I wanted to have the conversation without her anyway.
We sat at the dining table.
The same table where I had spent years listening to Dad discuss his business.
The same table where I had once tried to explain my first engineering contract.
I remembered how quickly that conversation had ended.
This time, Dad began.
"We need to put this behind us."
I looked at him.
"What does that mean?"
He folded his hands.
"It means the family needs to move forward."
I waited.
Mom brought out a bowl of salad.
Derek looked down at his plate.
Nobody mentioned the seating chart.
Nobody mentioned the apron.
Nobody mentioned the fact that I had worked all afternoon and left without eating.
Dad cleared his throat.
"Your company has always been important to us."
I looked at him.
That was not what I expected him to say.
He continued.
"We should have a better understanding of how we can work together."
I slowly put down my fork.
I realized he still hadn't asked why I had left the wedding.
And I wasn't going to answer a question he hadn't asked.
Click here to continue reading: PART 8: The Empty Chair Was Still Between Us, and I Finally Stopped Waiting for My Family to Decide Whether I Belonged
I Checked the Seating Chart Three Times Before I Realized My Family Had Made a Decision About Me Without Telling Me
Part 7 of 8
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